


We’ll meet again

by palmofviolets



Category: Dunkirk - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:58:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmofviolets/pseuds/palmofviolets
Summary: A look at Collins and Farrier’s lives before and after Dunkirk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> collins and farrier’s names are inspired by a fic I read a while ago - I can’t see them with any other names, so I guess I’ll keep these :)  
> Enjoy! <33

_**October 15, 1939** _

It was mid October - borderline chilly, but not quite so chilly that you would have to wear a scarf and gloves to go on a short stroll. Brown leaves crunched under hurried feet, and winter was coming faster than the news of war had, one month ago.

Crieff was a small, but mutual village, in the middle of Scotland: it was quiet and only grew quieter with the time of year. Family businesses started closing earlier, and children that would once play in the streets, laughing and screaming, would reluctantly have to go home as soon as it became dark.

Asher Collins walked down a dimly lit street, a brown wrapped parcel in his arm and a cold wind whipping against his face. Silence hung over the air, only interrupted every so often by the sound of footsteps against uneven cobble paving, he hurried home, not wanting to leave his grandmother alone for too long. From a young age, it had just been him and his grandmother: when Collins was seven, his grandfather had died and was left with only her for company - although he didn’t mind at all. He wouldn’t trade her for the world.

After a long day of laborious chores around the village - helping people fix fences, patch roofs, stop leaks, and so on - he would come home to his grandmother and tell her about his day. She was tired most of the time, always dozing off, but still sat and smiled at him all the same. Some days when Collins came home late, he would find that she had already gone to bed, though it couldn’t be helped - her old age and stiff bones made it difficult to be up and about all of the time. Today was one of those days. It was half past ten when Collins opened the door - carefully, not to wake her - putting his coat on the coat rack and his parcel on the kitchen table. Quietly, he creeped up the stairs to his room and collapsed on the bed. His muscles were sore and stiff - an after effect of nailing wooden boards to Mr Wilson’s ceiling to stop an ever-flowing leak. Finally sitting up, Collins untied his boots and changed into his nightwear, sighing with relief as his head hit the pillow. Since the war had started, there seemed an abundant amount of jobs around the village, due to brothers and sons going to fight for their country. He had tried so badly to join them, to make his grandmother proud and serve more than just this little village - but his letter of enlistment was sent weeks ago and he had never gotten any reply. Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out for it? He had never had any military experience and was most likely seen as too ‘soft’ to be any part of the fighting. His thoughts floated around in his mind, soon diluted by the fatigue that filled him: he closed his eyes, not wanting to think about it anymore and fell to sleep.

• • •

Morning came and light streaming in from the slightly parted curtains hit his face with a warm glow. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes with his palms and made his way downstairs. His grandmother sat at the kitchen table, with her back to him. “Morning, Gran. Tea?” Collins said, already filling the kettle with water. “Oh, morning dear. Yes a cup of tea would be lovely,” He turned around to see that she was reading a rather thick book: the parcel from yesterday. “Asher dear?” She said over the loud whistling of the kettle. “Yes?” Collins was preoccupied with scooping tea leaves into the white porcelain pot. Small pink and blue flowers crawled up the side - it was his great grandmother’s. “There’s a letter for you on the table, It came just this morning.” Her head fell down to reading the book again as Collins poured the boiled water into the teapot and picked the letter up from the table.

 

_Dear Sir,_

_In connection with your enlistment in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve for service during the present emergency, you will be required to report for permanent service in accordance with the instructions contained in this notice, issued to you by the Officer in Charge Records, Royal Air Force._

_In the meantime, you will serve in the Reserve. Where practical, you will be notified at the latest, three days before the date on which you will be required to report. Please find the report date below. 19 October, 1939 For Officer i/c Records, Royal Air Force._

 

Collins put the letter down. “What is it Asher?” His grandma closed her book shut, leaning in to try and read the contents. “It’s about my RAF enlistment.” Collins slid the letter towards her. “Already? When are you to report for?” She studied the letter closely, until she reached the last few lines, “the 19th? That’s in three days!” She passed the letter back to her grandson, a slight look of discontent on her aged face. Collins had waited weeks for the letter back about his enlistment, but hadn’t expected he’d need to leave so soon - in only three days, he’d need to be at the base, which is a full day trip in itself, leaving him with only today and tomorrow to say goodbye to everyone - including his grandmother. Although, he was somewhat happy about it. He had the chance to serve his country: to make everybody proud. “Well, never mind dear. Two days is plenty of enough time to say goodbye isn’t it?” She turned to face the window and answered her own question with a crestfallen tone, “yes, I suppose it is.”

He suddenly felt awful. Awful for having to leave his grandmother. Awful about how happy he was to be enlisted... What if he never saw her again? Any day, he could be shot down by a German plane and never get to say how sorry he was for leaving her alone. She turned to face him, putting her hand on his shoulder, “It’s alright. I’ll be fine on my own, you know I will - I can’t have you treating me like some little, fragile old woman can I?” She laughed, a sincere, lighthearted laugh. Collins smiled then. He knew he worried about her more than he should, but if anything happened - he didn’t know what he’d do without her. “No, of course not Gran.”

 

_**October 18, 1939** _

 

Collins had said goodbye to everyone in the village: most had hugged or given him an encouraging pat on the back, Mr Wilson had given him a packet of cigarettes for his help with the numerous jobs he’d needed a hand with. The children in the village asked eagerly if he’d tell them what it was like to fly a spitfire when he got back. Finally came his grandmother. With his suitcase at the bottom of the front steps, he held her tight and bid her farewell. “Asher.” She said, as he started down the steps, “I’m so proud of you.” Collins turned around and faced her. “Promise me you’ll come back and tell me all about it, won’t you?” She touched his shoulder briefly, then pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “Yes.” He said, “I promise.” He smiled sadly as he picked his suitcase up, turning around and walking from their cottage. As he waved over his shoulder, his grandmother waved back - she was shivering with the cold, reluctant to go back inside until she knew her grandson was really gone. _I’ll come back._ He thought, _I promise._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well a second chapter is kind of overdue, so I’m really sorry it took a while to write. I’ve been pretty busy recently and have been sort of trying to write bits when I can, but it’s done, so enjoy! :)

Collins rushed onto the train, moments before a clack of wheels sounded on the tracks. He found an empty carriage, shut the door behind him and set his suitcase on the seat opposite. Letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, he relaxed onto the seat, making himself comfortable for the long journey ahead. Rushes of greenery and trees passed by the window, only being briefly cut off by a dark shadow that suddenly appeared from the doorway.

 

A thin, young woman stood in the door of the carriage, hesitant to come in, her slender fingers tapping on the doorframe. “Can I help you?” Collins said after a few moments of silence. “Yes, sorry. Is this seat taken? I looked in some other carriages but they were full and I couldn’t help but notice it was just you. I thought you might want some company - long journeys can be quite lonely.” She took her hand off the doorframe, lacing it in her other hand at her front. “Um, yes - I mean, no. It’s not taken. You can sit there if you like.” He moved his suitcase from the other seat, placing it beside him - the woman sitting across from him.

 

She looked out of the window, splashes of green flashing across her pale face, a slightly uncomfortable quietude laying thick over the two strangers, until: “So, where is it that you’re going?” She cleared her throat, her hands returning to her lap. “Castletown.” Collins answered simply. He was too tired to say much more. “Ah. Visiting family?” He knew she wouldn’t leave him be without giving her a straight answer, so he just said, “Um, no actually - I’ve been enlisted into the RAF - I’m to report for duty tomorrow morning.”

 

 _Please just let me get some rest._ He had woken up early that morning, to spend the 8 hour train journey hopefully catching up on the sleep he’d sacrificed to get to the train station early - which still somehow resulted in almost missing the train. “My brother joined the RAF when the war first started - I haven’t heard anything back from him yet, but... Anyway, that’s enough about me.” She looked expectantly at him, as if she wanted him to say something. He didn’t.

 

A quite half an hour passed, when Collins eventually opened his mouth to talk, but missing his last opportunity, was stopped by the screech of wheels pulling into the station.

 

“Well, this is my stop. Good luck in the RAF, and who knows? You two might even bump into each other.” She stood up, making her way out of the carriage door - the stopped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I never told you my name, did I?” Turning around, she held out her hand, “I’m Anne. Jones.” She added, “and if you do run into my brother.” She paused, “tell him his sister wishes him home and safe.” Without a chance to reply, Anne had already gone.

 

•••

 

Somewhere between two and three hours after Anne had left, Collins had eventually dozed off. He slept for a while, then the train whistle told him he was at Castletown. He woke up in a daze - reached for his suitcase, and stumbled off off the train: a sea of busy people milled around the platform, looking for certain stations and checking their watches. A low buzz of chatter swept across the station and a cool breeze swept across the crowd. Making no excuse to be caught up in the few hundreds of waiting passengers, Asher weaved his way out of the platform and onto the street. He hailed a cab and sat inside.

 

“Where to then, sir?” “The Royal Air Force Base, please.” The driver pulled out into the road and set off, “Enlisting then are you?” Collins shuffled in his seat a bit. “Yes. I signed up last month, I’m to report for duty tomorrow.” Having already been through this once already, he would have appreciated it if the cab driver left him alone. _Just this once_ , he thought. _Leave me be for five minutes_ , please. “Well, good luck with you. It’s a brave thing you’re doing, you know. I’m sure your family are proud of you.” Suddenly, he remembered his Grandmother. “Yes.” He said, “Yes they are.”

 

Yet another long hour of silence passed, mostly consisting of Asher looking out of the window to see muggy, drizzly fields and endless rain, a light pattering of water spilling onto the roof of the cab and running down the windows. It was evening when they arrived. The cab slowed when a large, barbed, metal gate blocked their path - an intimidating wooden board with white lettering painted on the front: ‘ROYAL AIR FORCE, CASTLETOWN’.

 

“Well it looks like this is the place.” Said the cab driver. “Yes, I suppose it is. How much do I owe you?” He fumbled in his pocket for the money he had kept in there. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You do your part, I do mine. Shouldn’t charge anyone for helping their country now, should I?” Collins stopped, and turned to look at the driver, a look of gratitude forming on his face. “Well, I appreciate it very much. Thank you.” He gave the driver a nod and went on his way, the sound of wheels against gravel fading away as Collins walked up to the metal gate. Two men were stood on the other side.

 

“Hello?” They didn’t notice him, he coughed slightly and tried again. “Hello? Erm, Asher Collins? One of the newly enlisted - I’m to report for duty tomorrow.” The first man turned around, finally noticing him and produced a small pad of paper, and a pen. The second man stood taller and squinted at him. “Collins, was it? Yes. You should have been here fifteen minutes ago.” “Oh.” He hadn’t realised what the time had been, if there had even been an arrival time at all - as long as he was here tomorrow morning it didn’t matter, did it? Obviously, it did. “I’m very sorry - I wasn’t informed of an arrival time?” The first officer sighed, “Let him in - show him to one of the barrack blocks.”

 

The second officer started to walk towards a small, barn-like building. It almost looked as if it was made entirely of tin and could collapse at any given moment, though Collins trusted it, what with the stable build of the planes - a simple building shouldn’t be so fragile. They stepped through the narrow doorway and shut it behind them. “Your room is the second on the right, you’ll be sharing with one of the other lads. Lights out at 11 - and don’t be late for wake-up.” He left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Collins alone in the large room with only a small gas lamp on one of the tables for company. He followed the Officer’s directions, and found what he assumed to be was his room. Room 4. He made a mental note for future reference and knocked lightly on the door. _No reply, that’s odd_ \- he thought, _perhaps he’s with some of the other guys._

 

Collins decided to make the most of the time to himself and unpacked the scarce contents of his case: a few clothes for when he would be off duty, the pack of cigarettes that Mr Wilson had given him, a few photographs of him and his grandmother, and other general luggage items you can imagine, without making the list longer than it needed to be. Placing one of the framed memories on the small bedside table that was provided for both of the men in the room, he sat down on the bed with a light thump and sighed to himself. He briefly glanced over to his roommate’s table, which similarly held a framed photograph. He wanted to go and see what it was, but decided not to. He couldn’t be looking at other people’s things without having even met them yet.

 

_I might as well get some sleep. It’s not as if that’s what I’ve been trying to do all day, now is it?_

 

He left the gas lamp on, in case his roommate might still come back at some point, and changed into his night clothes. Pulling the thin covers over himself, sleep eventually came.

 

And then it was gone.

 

It was the door that woke him up. Metal slammed against the wall as laughter and chaffing grew louder. A group of drunk men were passing jokes and leaning against the wall. “Yeah, well I better be going, don’t wanna get Fortis’ knickers in a twist again.” A few of the men laughed at that, then started to walk off. Someone stepped into the room, yawning, then stopped. “So this is the new one then is it?” He murmured, so quietly that Asher wouldn’t have heard, had it not been silent in the room. “Still awake?” Collins stayed silent. He’d talk to him tomorrow, the long journey had exhausted him and for the first time today he finally had the chance to get some actual rest. He didn’t move. “I suppose not.” The man closed the door, shuffled around a bit then got into bed. Collins soon fell asleep once again.

 

•••

 

Waking for the third time, Collins had found that his roommate had already left, judging by the empty bed and missing boots, and general nonpresence in the room. _Looks like he’s not desperate to talk to me._ He stayed in bed for a while, enjoying the quietude of the morning - it wasn’t as loud as it had been that previous night, it was probably too early for that yet, and far less drunk men were walking about. He checked his watch. _5:07._ _I should get dressed_ , was his second thought: with such a warning about wake-up, he didn’t feel like being late enough to find out what the consequences were on his first day.

 

•••

 

It was chilly when he stepped outside. Though it would be - It was mid-October after all. A harsh wind whipped through the air, almost knocking him back a little, then subsided.

 

‘Wake-up’ seemed just to be a large area of gravel, a few hundred feet from the Barrack Block, where small groups of men were gathered talking, most likely waiting for an officer to show up and tell them what to do next. Five minutes passed, and there were more men outside waiting, and an officer finally showed up too. “It’s not like we’ve been here half an hour already.” One of the guys next to Collins said. He recognised the voice, though couldn’t identify the source. “Right lads, training starts at 9, get your breakfasts on the benches and make sure to be ready for then.” _That was briefer than was needed_. Thought Collins. No meeting point or specification to what they needed, but he supposed he could just ask his roommate when he got back. The other groups started leaving, so he went back to his room.

 

 _Room 4._ Good thing he had remembered that. A whiff of fumes was evident in the room: the gas lamp had been put out from the previous evening, and the smell of cigarettes haunted the air. The door opened again, with another wave of banter and laughing. Collins turned around and his roommate stood in the doorway. “Yeah I will. Later.” He shut the door, turning, and stopped in his tracks. “So you’re awake.” _Was that meant to be a joke?_ “Uh, yeah. I was at wake-up but I guess you didn’t see me.” “Well, then an introduction is overdue - I’m Carter Jones.” He put a hand out, and Collins went to shake- _Did I hear that right… Jones? No- There must be a hundred Jones’s. It’s not as if he could be_ \- “It’s probably a stupid question, but, do you know anyone named Anne Jones…?” His face contorted, and he narrowed his eyes slightly. “She’s my sister.” He added quickly, “And married - so don’t get any-“ “No! No- we met on the train is all - she… said to look out for you.” Carter‘s expression cooled a little. “She said she misses you: that she hopes you come home soon.” He looked sullen for a moment, “Yeah. Me too.” A pause, “How was she?” Collins thought. “She looked well, almost talked my right ear off.” They both laughed. “Sounds like my Anne, alright.” Another silence fell between them. “I’m guessing the picture on your table is of her, then.” He glanced fondly at it. “Yes.” He paused again, longer, as if to think. “Well, training starts soon, We should get going. It was nice talking to you, it’s good to have someone around that you can be open with.” He stood at the doorway, leaning on the frame with one arm. “Well, we’ll probably be in different training groups since I’ve been here a while, so I’ll see you later.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “You know, if you want, you can come out with me and the boys tonight - James’ got plenty of cigarettes.” He chuckled and left, letting the metal door shut behind him with a clang. Collins was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side edit: the RAF base I used is actually in Ireland and I got a bit mixed up with the locations (of course, you can’t catch a train overseas, whoops) so please ignore it, as it probably won’t be mentioned in future chapters and is my own fault.   
> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Training started at 8:30. Men stood around the gravel expanse, Collins somewhere amongst them, and were almost noiseless as an Officer walked to face them all. They became silent, focusing their attention on the man stood before them - he began to speak.

 

When Collins had first arrived, he had received three things: a pair of goggles, a leather, wooly jacket and a blue, fitted coat with a single, lighter blue stripe on one forearm. This Officer had three. 

 

“Some of you here will have arrived just yesterday, and others, weeks ago. New or not, that makes no difference - you start today and continue like the rest of us: no exceptions are made for the inexperienced. Training will be at 8:30 every morning so don’t even think about being late, or not showing up - I can assure you, we don’t have room for layabouts in the Air Force, and we certainly won’t be trying to make any.” The man was in his 40s, stiff, strict and had a cold glare that could make anyone uncomfortable, given he stared at you long enough. His brow furrowed as he spoke and occasionally, a little spit would fly from the corner of his mouth. The Officer paced from one end of the gravel to the other - it crunching and cowering under his boots with every step, then stopped.

“Now that that’s all cleared up,” his voice alleviated a little, “you’ll all stand front and center, then say your names one by one - I’d like to hope nobody has decided to slack off today, and I won’t have to be the one to double your training.”

 

The men did as asked and stood in a horizontal line, facing the Officer, stating their names one by one. The last name was called and they were all divided into smaller groups: around 8 to a group. Each person was given their own service number, warned never to lose it or give it to anyone else, then training finally started.

 

 It had been mostly fitness to begin with - stamina, strength and muscular endurance were all very important, the Officer had said - being unfit doesn’t cut it, and you can’t start to fly until then. It was tiring, Collins admitted, though then again, it would only feel easier the more he did. Some of the other men in his group seemed to be fairly new, others not so much: they breezed through their press-ups and pull-ups before anyone else could even finish their second sit-up. Another hour and a half passed, and the Officer sent them all back to their barrack blocks to shower and come back for the endurance training. Thus came the weighted marches: 5 miles in an hour and a quarter, carrying a 30 pound bag on your back - this continued for several days, each day slightly easier, yet still as exhausting as the last. 

 

**_October 26, 1939_ **

 

A week had passed, Collins talked more with Carter about family and the RAF: he had joined, Collins had found out, because of his friends - he hadn’t really wanted to, but had been convinced and followed the crowd, despite how he seemed to be the leader of the group when it came to the RAF. He talked about his sister, and how she always sent him letters, asking him to write back, and come home soon and the like, and in return, Collins told him about his grandmother and Crieff. It was nice to have someone to talk to - he hadn’t expected he would go the entirety of his service without making at least one friend, and pleasantly surprised himself when it only took the first week to do so. They went for drinks and smoked cigarettes with Carter’s friends: they seemed equally as friendly, and by the second week, conversation came easily and they could all have a laugh together. 

 

Training became increasingly more testing - the five mile march increased to 10, and the already stern Officer, who Collins had found was called Jenkins, wasn’t getting any friendlier. It was a freezing morning in late October and Carter and Asher trudged onto the same gravel tract, waiting for Jenkins to order them about for the rest of their morning. Their training groups had been integrated a few days ago, since they had caught up to the general training regime, and despite the obvious difference between physical fitness of the groups, you could barely tell that one half had arrived just weeks ago. 

 

“It’s another 10 mile march today lads - bags are behind me, you know what to do, and  _ don’t  _ lag behind like yesterday, or I’ll make sure you make up for it in your own time shall I?”

Carter turned to his friend.

“Can’t argue with that, come on, we might as well get a head start than be stuck behind everyone else.”

•••

 

They were about 8 miles in, Carter and Collins had ended up having to complete the march individually - Asher was far too slow to keep up, whilst Carter had been keen to finish quickly and insisted on jogging the last few miles. He had no idea how far ahead Carter was, but knew that he had only two miles left. Ten minutes passed when Collins came up to the top of a steep, rocky hill and could hear a growingly heated argument, or rather, one-sided retaliation. It was Carter.

 

“What’s-“

“Some bastard tripped me up and I broke my flaming ankle!” Carter cut in, pissed off. He was sat on a rock, his foot stretched out in front of him.

“It’s your bloody ankle - get a grip, pick up your bag and start walking!”

His foot was bright red and swollen to the point where you could barely tell if he even had an ankle to be in with. Carter attempted to move it and winced.

“Look, I can’t move the damn thing, I don’t see how you expect me to walk another two miles with 30 pound bag lugged over my shoulder.”

“Well you’ve got no choice,  _ soldier  _ unless you wanna start talking to Jenkins!” The other man, seemingly another officer, was starting to lose his temper, and with Carter on top of that, the outcome wouldn’t be great. Other men passing, started to stop and see what was happening.

“Officer, I’ll carry his bag, just-“

“What the hell has this got to do with you? Keep  walking or I’ll be sending you to Jenkins too, you-“

“Hey! He hasn’t done anything-“

“Shut your mouth and get the  _ hell  _ up!” The Officer was practically glaring at Carter, then turned to Collins.

“ _ Keep. Walking.  _ Or you’ll regret-“

“Let me help him for God’s sake! You expect me to let him  _ limp  _ the last two miles and struggle?” He took Carter’s bag and slung it over his shoulder, “Now,  _ you  _ keep walking before  _ I  _ tell Jenkins you were going to leave an injured man out here on his own!” Carter hooked his arm around Collins’ shoulder and barely managed to stand. His weight fell onto his left leg and they started hobbling the rest of the way, occasionally stumbling and stopping briefly, before continuing at a slow pace.

 

The men stared at the officer, a few sniggering mockingly.

 

“What the hell are you looking at? Get moving!”

 

•••

 

By 2:00, they had returned back to the training ground - Collins took Carter to the medical block and went to wait for the rest of the men to finish. He sat down on a low stone wall, hands in his lap.  _ That could’ve gone better.  _ If pissing off an officer on your first day wasn’t gonna put you in some serious trouble, Collins couldn’t think of a lot else that could.  _ They could kick me out. _

“ _ Shit.” _ He cursed to himself, grimacing towards the sky.

“Y’know, that was stupid what you just did.”

Asher turned around as a dark shadow was cast over him. A man stood: he was tall, with rough-cut brown hair and a broad build.

“But, I gotta admit - took some nerve to do it. Most of us can’t even look that guy in the eye without getting a hard time for it. Real piece of work he is.” He looked detestfully to the side, then back to Collins, chuckling lightly.

“You must be one of the new ones if you haven’t heard about him yet.”

“Yeah. I got here a few weeks ago.”

He seemed taken aback, “a few weeks? Took me months to make any friends here. The whole place is pretty intimidating when you first arrive, huh?”

“I guess so. It wasn’t hard when I met my roommate, though.” He glanced to the medical block.

“Carter? Yeah, he’s a good guy - was in my training group for a while. Though, I don’t suppose it hurts anyone to have more than  _ one  _ friend, now, does it?”

He offered out his hand.

“I’m Farrier. Jack Farrier.

Collins took it.

“Asher Collins.”

His hand was rough, but warm and felt somehow familiar. Asher shook it, then stood. He was significantly shorter than Farrier, and a little skinner - though of course - he hadn’t been here long enough to be quite as strong as an ox just yet.

“Unusual name.  _ Asher. _ ” He squinted to himself, testing the name out, and thinking hard.

“Irish, is it?”

“Yeah, actually. How’d you figure that out?”

“I can speak some Gaelic,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “my mother taught it me.”

“I see. Is she Irish?”

“Well, it’s a long story, but I guess you could say she is. Somewhat.”

“Ah.”

Collins didn’t bother prying any further. Family history was a complicated thing and right now wasn't the ideal time to have an hour’s discussion over it. Farrier scratched his cheek. 

“I had better be going, and you too - if it was me, I wouldn’t wanna stick around for that officer to give me a mouthful again. I’m in room 7, block 2 if you ever need anything - you can bring Carter along too.”

He left, shoving his hands in the pockets of his blue coat, trudging away. Collins found himself staring, as Farrier grew smaller into the distance, with a smile on his face. He quickly snapped back to reality as some other men plodded past, groaning with their bags still on their shoulders. The afternoon was pretty uneventful after that: Jenkins arrived back and dismissed them all, Collins headed back to his room (noting that he was in fact staying in barrack block 2 - how he hadn’t realised that before was a mystery to him), went for supper then stayed in his room the rest of the night. Carter still wasn’t back.  _ He’s probably staying there overnight. They’ll just be keeping an eye on him.  _ Collins assured himself.

For the first since his arrival, Asher was alone: he’d always had someone to talk to, be it small talk with the other men during breaks, or banter with Carter and his friends, but sitting in his small, cold room, it felt strange and he didn’t like it. He remembered that Farrier was just down the corridor.  _ I don’t want to seem too desperate _ . He thought.  _ God. I’ve only known him… what? Twenty minutes? I can’t just ask to come and talk to him whenever the hell I want! I barely even know him.  _ In the end, he decided to just go to bed. Some extra sleep would do him some good, anyway.

 

•••

 

Another morning came and went. Carter still hadn’t come back, and Collins spent training alone, too. He didn’t see Farrier either. Admittedly, there were a few hundred men in their training group and it wasn’t easy to pick out each person individually, but it wasn’t exactly fun spending the entirety of training by yourself, with no-one to make Jenkins’ orders a little more endurable. 

 

The afternoon went at a snail’s pace, and the overall day seemed to be an endless drag of shouting and physical activity. It was only when Collins returned to his room at the end of the day, that his isolation ended.

 

“Carter?”

He was sat on his bed, foot resting on the floor in a cast.

“Yeah, I’m back. Bloody nurse wouldn’t let me leave.” He grumbled. “Turns out I broke my ankle.”

Collins sat across from him, on his own bed.

“Bad?”

“Not really. I can’t do much on it for a couple weeks, then I’m back to training. Lucky me gets to stay in this room for a fortnight. Wahoo.”

Collins pitied him. He’d only had to endure a day without company, and even then he was occupied with training - Carter’d be completely alone most of the day, with nothing to do either.

“You can borrow some of my books if you want. I don’t know as you’d find them any good, but it’s got to be better than nothing.”

Carter laughed.

“You’d have to break every bone in my body before you got me to read those books of yours.”

“Oh,  _ what  _ was I thinking? Of course, Carter Jones would  _ never  _ waste his time with such a thing as… what did you call it?  _ Gink’s literature? _ ”

They both laughed, the mood in the room lifting a little.

“Yeah. Well I’m gonna be in here a while, so I might as well - what’ve you got?”

Collins reached for his desk, sliding open the wooden drawer. He flicked through some of his books, trying to make a decisive decision to which would be best.

“Erm, I’ve got Tolkein, Huxley… Faulker? No, maybe not. You know what, just start off with Tolkein.” 

He tossed the book to Carter, who only just caught it.

“Tolkein, hm? Never heard of him before.”

“You’ve never heard of most authors-“

“That’s not exactly fair.” Carter protested.

“Well, he’s fairly new. 1937 was his first book, I’m sure.”

“Collins.”

“Mm?”

“What the hell is a hobbit?”


	5. Chapter 5

Hi! I know this isn’t a chapter (sorry if you got excited and I disappointed you,,) but it’s the author here just to say I’m sorry I haven’t updated in a while! I’ve been a little stressed lately and I want to make this the best it can be so you might not hear from me for another few weeks. With school and everything else I’ve had no free time to write anything new, but you’ll hear from me at some point, so - thanks for sticking around and I’ll update soon :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! It’s been a while I know, but thanks to anyone that’s stuck around and been patient with me for not posting in so long, so here’s chapter six for y’all! :)

The next few weeks were as much as a drag as the last one. Collins was alone again: Carter stayed in their room resting his foot, and Farrier was nowhere to be seen, yet again.

_ Funny that.  _ Collins had thought to himself, more often than not.

At one point, He had seriously considered going to his room to talk to him, but something told him that maybe there wasn’t a need to.

 

**_November 7, 1939_ **

 

October came and went, and November arrived in its place. Each day grew colder and colder with winter approaching fast, and life at the base didn’t get any easier with the chilly weather. Training continued as usual, even through the sleet and snow, despite complaints from some of the men (they soon learned not to argue with Jenkins after what had ensued as a result).

 

Carter recovered weeks later and was soon back on his feet - more lively than ever. The sitting around in a small dimly lit room for a month must’ve had something to do with it, Collins had decided.

 

“Glad you’re up and about again, Carter. Though, some peace and quiet was nice, even if it wasn’t for long.”

Carter punched him lightly on the shoulder, earning a small yelp from Collins, who was now rubbing his arm in that same spot.

“Well, you won’t have to worry then. After they move me you’ll have as much peace and quiet as you want.” He chuckled, folding his arms. He hadn’t quite noticed the narrowing stare from his friend.

“Moving?” Asher tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. Carter unfolded his arms as quickly as he had folded them, resting his hands on his hips and stepping back a few feet.

“Shit, yeah. I probably should have told you sooner. They’re moving me up a rank, squadron leader - guess I’ll finally get to work with the big boys eh?” He laughed again, stopping when he saw that Collins wasn’t as happy as he was.

 

“Hey, look, I’m sorry ok? I should’ve told you sooner, it’s not fair to leave like that - is that what you want me to say?” He searched Collins, looking for an answer, or anything that would say he was forgiving him and they could move on from the subject. Nothing.

“I can’t keep doing this! I’ve been here for two months, working my ass off, and I can finally go out and do something that I’ll be proud of - that my  _ family _ will be proud of!” He stopped again, scanning his friend.

“Jesus, just say something will you?”

Collins looked up at him and blinked.

“Your sister asked me to make sure you came home safe.” Collins started.

“Safe? Asher, we’re in the fucking RAF! If you wanted safe, you’d be at home with your Grandmother, having never signed up in the first place, and I’d be with my mother and Anne, where she can’t worry about me and-“

“It’s not about Anne!”

Carter flinched, going quiet.

“Jesus, I don’t know when you’re going to realise that letting you loose up there with three bandits on your tail and no backup won’t end up with you becoming a war hero! If you die one day and they never find your dog tag, It’ll be me that has to tell your sister that I couldn’t take care of you, and me that has to live knowing that the only reason you could’ve died was because I gave up trying to change your mind!”

With that, he held his breath, staring at his friend, now looking to him for an answer.

“Asher, they want to move me for a reason. If they didn’t think I’d be ready then I’d still be taking the training courses with you tomorrow. Trust me, I know what I’m doing, and my sister would never blame you for anything - she’s like that.”

Collins blinked again.

“Tomorrow?”

“Look, I’m going either way and I promise you I’ll be fine.”

He put his hand on Collins’ shoulder.

“Please, don’t worry. I promise I’ll be ok.”

 

He let go, looking at the concerned face fixed upon him, then glanced to their barrack block.

 

“I need to pack my things.” He murmured, then turned and left.

 

Collins stood alone again, staring at the small piles of dust dancing on the gravelly path. They lingered for a moment, then disappeared into the air. He let his eyes follow along the gritted ground, eventually finding himself staring at the place Carter had just left him. Restless feet wanted to take him to their barrack block, apologise and say he had underestimated him, that of course he’d be fine and he was stupid to think that he could possibly let himself get hurt.

Then again, he stopped. 

 

_ It’s no use. _

 

He was leaving anyway. Tomorrow. Then he’d probably never see him again. Or if he did it’d be at the medical center, with a dozen bandages and slings, or even worse, under a cloth, laid out on a table like some wicked human experiment. 

 

He could never convince him not to go - that was the problem. Carter’s stubbornness had always been an issue, like when he hurt his foot and refused to keep walking. But now, Asher was the one trying to stop him from walking. He had wanted this for years - to serve for his country, help out in the war and make his family proud. Make  _ Anne  _ proud. If she could see him now she’d be furious with him. The same way Asher was furious with him. 

 

He kicked the path, lifted his head and breathed deep. Cold air filled his lungs and head: he walked.

 

•••

 

The barrack block was cold. Much colder than it had ever been in the time Collins had been here. Mostly because the lads had always had a gas lamp around with them, they could usually fit about three on a table where they would all gather in the evening, playing cards or sharing cigarettes. There were no gas lamps. It was late.

Collins checked his watch - 11:36. He was surprised an officer hadn’t found his way to him yet and given him a talking to for being out so deep into the night. At this point, he couldn’t care whether one did or didn’t.

 

Their door was shut, but luckily not locked. He didn’t know what he’d do if Carter had completely lost his temper with him and shut him out all night for what little solitude he might get to sit and sulk. His shoes were dumped by the door, laces sprawled on the wooden boards like they always were, ready for Collins to trip over them and curse his roommate for never keeping things tidy. He’d miss that. One quick glance to the left side of the room told him that Carter was already asleep, so Asher took the initiative and did the same. He laid on his side, facing the wall. It was best that way - it meant he couldn’t feel guilty every time he opened his eyes and saw him, and sorry that he had so little faith in him. 

 

•••

 

When he opened his eyes, Collins wasn’t facing the wall: he also wasn’t facing the back of Carter’s head, or the shoes thrown carelessly by the door. He was gone. Collins sat up, scanning the room for a sign that he wasn’t really gone yet, that he’d only gone to get breakfast or do laps around the training ground. Nothing. No pictures of him and his family, or brown suitcase at the end of his bed, not even a-

 

Note.

 

There was a small note on his bed, slipped so indiscreetly, it was almost under his pillow. It addressed Collins. 

 

_ Asher,  _

 

_ I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. You know how much this means to me and I can’t just sit and pass up an opportunity for something I’ve wanted for a long time. I know that if you were ever my friend you won’t be disappointed in me for leaving and know that I’ll make you proud. I’ll be back soon, I promise.  _

 

 

_            -Your friend. _

 

 

Asher held the note delicately, folding it back up and slipping it into his pocket. He laced up his boots, slipped on his jacket and locked his bunker door. It clicked shut. The gravel crunched under his feet and chilly morning air washed over his face. A crowd was gathering in the training ground, waiting for their commander. Collins shoved his hands into his pockets, waking, he felt paper on his fingertips.

 

“See you soon, friend.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea when I’ll be able to update this - there won’t be a regular upload schedule at the moment, so chapters will probably be uploaded whenever I can write them.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and leaving kudos! :)


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